


Once a Kingsman, Forever a Kingsman

by twelfth_doctor



Category: Forever (TV), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Immortality, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, canon compliant (as far as we know)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelfth_doctor/pseuds/twelfth_doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Hart emerges naked from a backwater swamp in Kentucky with no gear and no way to contact Kingsman HQ, Merlin, or Eggsy. He finds a payphone (seriously, a payphone) and calls Agent Bedivere (retired). These days, he just goes by the name Henry Morgan.</p><p>{Written for the Forever Crossover Ficathon.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to aika_max/maxisthenewalex for the unintentional theft of this title. I promise our stories are different! ;)

“This ain't that kind of movie.”

_BANG._

Harry went down like a sack of bricks. He had been a bit disoriented from Valentine's signal _before_. A gunshot to the face had him _reeling_. He was clinging to semi-consciousness by the barest thread. Through the blinding pain, Harry knew enough to know he was _fucked_. His left eye was gone, glasses beyond repair (were they even still transmitting?), if Merlin was still speaking through the comm in his ear, Harry couldn't hear him.

He could only lay there on the pavement and hope that poor Eggsy wasn't watching.

Through the ringing in his remaining ear, Harry could just make out Valentine and Gazelle's voices. As the darkness threatened to consume him, Harry caught the lisp-tinged words “This party starts tomorrow.” _That's good to know_ , he thought. _Now if you could just fuck off and let me die in private..._

The last thing Harry heard was the slamming of car doors before he sighed his last breath and eased into Death's embrace.

 

* * *

 

Harry broke through the surface coughing and spitting out a mouthful of stagnant pond water.

_Disgusting._

Harry swam a few strokes towards shore until his bare feet found purchase on the slimy rocks below and he was able to stand. He waded to the shore, such as it was, frightening a couple of frogs along the way.

Scanning the area and listening with all his might, the very naked (and thankfully immortal) Harry Hart was able to determine that he certainly wasn't out of the woods just yet. He couldn't hear any traffic noise, which, while not _especially_ odd for Middle-of-Nowhere, Kentucky, was decidedly not a good sign. He could, however hear just a faint trickle of running water. Stepping carefully, Harry followed the sound to its source and discovered that the foul, swampy pond he’d just emerged from was fed by a small stream.

Having no idea how far he was from a town or which direction the church even _was_ from this location, the wilderness survival training in Harry's mind screamed at him, _water will lead you to civilization_. Harry shrugged and went with it. Based on what he'd just experienced firsthand of Valentine's plans, civilization was the last place a reasonable man would want to be. Fortunately, Harry Hart was not feeling like a reasonable man anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Abe's Antiques.”

“Oh, thank God. Is that Abraham Morgan?” Overjoyed at finally getting through to _someone_ , Harry smiled and rested his forehead against the top of the pay phone. He quickly remembered that germs were a thing and thought better of it.

“Yeah, speaking. How can I help you today?” asked Abe.

Harry was so relieved he could weep. He was standing at an abandoned service station in the middle of nowhere wearing ill-fitting clothes he'd pilfered from an honest-to-goodness clothesline. He had no money, none of his fancy spy gear, and none of his fancy spy friends _had answered their sodding_ _phones_. And this was all, somehow, the least emotionally trying part of his day so far.

“Ah. Right, the thing is, Abraham, I'm not a customer per se...” Harry hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He hadn't actually planned this far ahead.

“Oh? I'm sorry, who is this?” Abe asked, audibly struggling to remain patient.

Harry took a breath and exhaled slowly. If he screwed this up, he was officially out of people to call. “You wouldn't remember me, but I'm an old friend of your father's. Is he at home, by chance?”

There was a pause. A _long_ pause.

“...Are you still there, Abraham?” Harry asked, slightly regretting the tactic he chose.

“Let me get this straight. You’re' asking if my father, who, by all accounts would be 106 this year--you're asking if he's _home_? Boy, do I have some bad news for you...” Abe chuckled humorlessly.

And that's when Harry briefly lost track of his own patience. “Abraham, we don't have time for this! We both know full _bloody well_ that Henry Morgan is by _no measure_ 106 years old. Neither by appearance, nor actual chronological age. And I'm _certain_ that's not what his latest forged birth certificate would indicate, either. Now, the matter I wish to discuss with Henry is of some urgency, so if you would be so kind--”

“Listen, buster, I don't know what you're playing at--” Abe's voice was deadly serious and growing angry, but Harry's trained ear picked up on the panic just below the surface. _Panic isn't good._

“Please, just don't hang up!” Harry pleaded. He heard an unhappy grumble that indicated Abe was still on the line. “I wouldn't have called if this weren't urgent. Please contact Henry and tell him 'Galahad needs Bedivere.' And have him call me back at this number,” Harry rattled off the fading digits printed above the keypad. He could just make out the scratching sounds which indicated that Abe took him seriously enough to write it down. “ _Galahad needs Bedivere,_ ” Harry repeated. “Thank you ever so much, Abraham.”

“Yeah, yeah.” With that, Abe disconnected their call.

 

* * *

 

Exactly two minutes passed before the old payphone rang feebly at Harry Hart. He snatched up the receiver before the first ring was through.

“Hello?”

“My God. Galahad, is that really you?” the British man on the line asked in awe.

“It's damn good to hear your voice, Bedivere. Damn good. There is nothing I would love more than to catch up on the last 60 years with you, but I'm here in the colonies and I find myself in a spot of bother. Also, the world is about to end,” Harry concluded.

Henry Morgan leaned back in his office chair and whistled low into the phone. “Oh, dear. That _is_ unfortunate. But what's an apocalypse to a couple of immortals, eh?” Henry joked halfheartedly. “How can I help, Harry? Also, just curious, how is it that everything is so bad that you would resort to calling _me_? I was a _terrible_ field agent.”

“But you were a cracking good field medic, mate. And always quick to react when it mattered,” Harry took a deep breath. “Admittedly, you weren't my first call. No offense. It appears that HQ is in total communications blackout. I can't reach Arthur or Merlin. I can't even reach my bloody _recruit_ , and he's supposed to be in my damn _house_.”

“Oh? And what was he doing _there_?” Henry prodded in a lilting tone.

“Now is not the time, Morgan. Point is, Eggsy wasn't even supposed to be _at_ HQ, but I'm guessing he did see me die and it's all gone rather tits-up. This comm blackout can't just be because of the impending apocalypse. If anything, they would want to make it easier for agents to check in right now. Something must've happened internally. Henry... I think Kingsman has been compromised.” Harry shuddered at the thought.

“And I'm far enough removed from the situation that you knew you could trust me. Understandable,” said Henry.

“That, and, barring any serious life changes you want to tell me about, you've had the decency to not age a day since you retired. All the old codgers from our glory days are sick, senile, or dead. God rest them.”

“That's... to be expected, I suppose. Sixty years is a long time to most people.” Henry sighed and spared a moment to think of his former colleagues. His thoughts so rarely drifted to that part of his life anymore...getting to know Harry Hart during the war...watching him die and seeing him disappear, but not knowing how to find him again...finding Abigale instead...getting the call to begin the secret double life of a Kingsman agent... “At any rate, what can I do to assist you?”

“Well, I'm somewhere in Kentucky, and I'd rather not be,” Harry explained, examining his surroundings again. “I'm pretty sure it's still Kentucky, at least. I did just die, though, so I'm not positive. That also means, of course, that I'm without any of my weapons, kit, clothes, or passport... Say, do you have the time, Henry?”

Henry pulled his trusty pocket watch from his waistcoat and read off the time: “4:28. But that's Eastern time. I'm fairly certain Kentucky straddles the border between Eastern and Central...”

“Blast. I'll figure it out. Either way, time is a factor. I'll see if I can find a car to steal. One with GPS, ideally. There isn’t time for you to wire me money or anything like that. I'll just get to the Louisville airport as fast as I can. I can't imagine they held the Kingsman jet for me after my demise... I came here alone and the autopilot has likely fucked off home by now. Can you get me a ticket on the next flight to JFK?”

“Absolutely, not a problem.” Henry hesitated, “But how will you collect it without your identification?”

“I'll improvise,” Harry grinned to himself, “Cheers, Henry.”

“Don't mention it. What will you do when you get to the city?” the medical examiner wondered aloud. “Shall I come and collect you from the airport?”

“That would be lovely, Henry. I'm still working on my strategy, and I much prefer New York as a base of operations over this hateful place. Some friendly company wouldn't go amiss either; I've had a rather trying day... Have you looked up the flights yet? I'd like to know just how fast I'll need to speed to get to the gate on time,” Harry Hart fidgeted uncharacteristically. He was very eager to leave whatever town he was in.

“Ah,” Henry paused. “Would you hang on for just a moment?” He covered the receiver in an attempt to muffle his shout of “Lucas! Could you come in here?”

“'Sup, boss?” the new voice, presumably belonging to Lucas, asked.

“Lucas, I need you to help me book a flight for a friend of mine. He's in a spot of bother. He needs to get here from Louisville, Kentucky. JFK, if possible.”

“Sure thing, Henry. But one day soon, I'm gonna try to teach you how to use the Internet again,” Lucas threatened.

On the other end of the line, Harry Hart heard every word. It took every ounce of gentlemanly restraint in his possession to not roll his eyes at his ex's apparent computer illiteracy. _Oh, Henry._


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stepped outside the airport and sucked in a deep breath of not-so-fresh air. He exhaled with an anxious shudder. He wasn't a nervous flyer by nature; what did an immortal man have to fear, anyway? But this day had brought with it a brand new kind of terror. Harry had spent every second worried what havoc he might wreak if Valentine suddenly decided to activate the rage SIM cards during the four hour flight. As a highly trained Kingsman agent, Harry was dangerous on a good day, but while confined in a flying metal tube, he could be unspeakably deadly.

Harry daren't try to process what happened—what he had _done_ —in that church. Not yet. Not until the rest of the world was safe. Preferably not until he himself was safe at home with a very large bottle of Scotch on his coffee table and Eggsy Unwin on his couch.

_Eggsy._

Harry paced back and forth around the drop-off zone (careful to stay under the lights and within plain view of oncoming traffic so he could be spotted) and allowed himself to indulge in some good-natured worrying about the young man. On the one hand, Harry hoped that Eggsy was keeping well out of danger, but on the other hand, he knew the boy was more than capable of looking after himself. Maybe he'd even sweet-talked his way back into Kingsman's good graces and gotten a second chance to help stop Valentine...

“Harry? Harry. _Harry._ GALAHAD!” the shouts got louder, and the use of his code name finally pierced his consciousness and Harry snapped back to the present. He turned to see Henry Morgan, large as life, climbing out of a silver sedan.

“Henry,” Harry greeted brightly. He was genuinely glad to see him, despite the circumstances. “So sorry, I was miles away. Aren't you a right sight for sore eyes?”

“Oh, Harry. I haven't seen you for _ages_ and you have the _nerve_ to get better looking,” Henry wiggled his eyebrows just so and reached out to pull the other man in a hug, ignoring Harry's gentlemanly outstretched hand.

“You absolute liar. I look just the same if not worse. Plus, I'm sure I still smell like that _dreadful_ swamp. There's only so much washing up one can do in an airplane lavatory.” Harry pulled away slightly to assess Henry's features up close under the dim street lights. “I see you've found a way to make facial hair work for you, at last.”

“Oh-ho!” Henry untangled himself from the man's grip. “Another critic of the mustache? Really? It was the style of the day, as you well know!”

Harry chuckled. “Come on, then. We've got a world to save.” He motioned towards the idling car.

Henry nodded and opened the back door for him with a flourish. Harry stepped in gracefully and looked up at the attractive Latina woman behind the wheel. A switch flipped in the back of Harry's mind and he tensed. Her seated posture positively _screamed_ that she was carrying a gun and her cold, suspicious glance at him through the rearview mirror set him on edge. He was considering bolting from the vehicle when Henry got in and slammed the passenger side door.

“Harry Hart, meet Detective Jo Martinez. My partner,” Henry announced as the car’s interior lights dimmed to nothing.

Harry took this in, noticed the slight glint of a badge on her hip and the two-way radio in the console, and relaxed a fraction, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Detective. I was unaware Henry would need a police escort to simply pick up an old friend from the airport...” Harry shifted in his seat so he could catch a part of Henry's sheepish look in the mirror.

“Oh, man, I volunteered for this! Are you kidding?” Jo's face lit up with enthusiasm and mirth (though Harry could tell she was still sizing him up). “An old friend of Henry's? We—the guys at work—didn't think he had any friends besides us. I had see for myself,” Jo said, as if that explained everything.

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

Henry hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. “It's, ah, it's a long story... So, where to, Harry? We could go to the shop or, it’s a little late, but we could still go to the station...?”

Behind them, a car horn blared. “Well, you boys let me know,” Jo shifted the car into drive and began pulling away from the drop-off zone. “I'm just gonna start driving this way.” She waved a hand at the windshield, indicating the ramp leading away from the airport.

Harry leaned forward in his seat to speak discreetly into Henry's ear, “How free am I to speak in here?”

“Hm? Oh, Jo is my dearest friend. She knows everything. Well...everything about _me,_ I should say. Nothing about you or your occupation as of yet. How much you wish to divulge is quite up to you.”

“Oh. That's good, I suppose,” Harry nodded to himself, thinking. “As for where I'd like to go, Detective, I think somewhere secure but without an excess of weapons. So, not a police station, if you please. Does the antiques shop fit the bill, Henry?”

“Nearly–” Henry began to answer, around a snort of laughter from Jo. “There are a few dangerous odds and ends, but nothing that can't be cleared away.” Henry lowered his voice subtly, “Is this to do with the, ah, situation you mentioned on the phone?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so. I'd rather explain it all when we're somewhere safe,” Harry sighed, then added lightly, “If there happens to be a change of clothes for me when we get there, I would be eternally grateful.” Harry looked down at his shamefully mismatched and ill-fitting attire, down to the cheap flip flops he'd managed to swipe from someone's back garden on his way to Louisville. “It's not a _very_ high priority, of course. I just don't feel quite like myself dressed like this...”

“I'll see what I can arrange, Harry. No promises that it'll be up to your usual standard. None of my suits would fit you, I'm afraid; you're too damn tall,” Henry said. “Jo, may I borrow your phone?”

Jo rolled her eyes and scoffed, but produced a smart phone from her jacket pocket all the same. As Henry fumbled awkwardly through her contacts, Harry let his head rest against the window and his eyelids began to droop. Distantly, he heard Henry place a phone call... Harry wondered groggily what time it was in London as he let the stop-and-go New York City traffic rock him into a light slumber.

  


* * *

  


When they arrived at the shop, Harry was awoken by the jangling of Jo's keys being taken out of the ignition. He sat bolt upright and quickly cased the neighborhood around the shop. _Good_ , he thought. _A relatively quiet spot on the lower east side. Not too much foot traffic._

Henry opened the rear passenger-side door and stared in awe as Harry Hart flexed his still perfectly honed tactical observation skills. Henry could kick himself for letting himself get rusty in that area. Sure, he used his powers of perception and deduction in the morgue and at crime scenes (and for fun at parties), but he could tell Harry was operating several levels beyond him just having a look around. He had to be thinking of offensive and defensive tactics, calculating variables, and plotting for every eventuality. Master spies don't like surprises.

So when Lucas Wahl, a tall, gangly young man not famous for his timing, jumped out of an Uber and sprinted up the sidewalk towards them wielding a garment bag and shoebox, Harry startled violently.

“I brought the stuff, Doc!” Lucas said, his sneakered feet slapping the concrete as he slowed down in front of the antiques shop. Harry recognized the voice from earlier and let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Excellent, Lucas. Thank you,” Henry reached out to take the items from the young man. “Though, I'm not sure we needed you to stay; my friend here merely required the change of clothes...” In the time Henry spent trying to let Lucas down gently, the beaming young man's ride pulled away. “...and that’s your taxi gone. You might as well come in for a minute,” he sighed, defeated.

The four of them stood on the sidewalk in slightly tense silence for a moment until Abe opened the shop door with a jingle and ushered them all inside, making sure the sign on the door was flipped to “Closed” behind them.

“Right. Yes. Right, then. Harry Hart, this is my, um, assistant. Lucas. And my roommate, Abraham, with whom you spoke with earlier today. Lucas, Abe, this is Harry Hart. An old friend.” Henry sighed and rubbed his temple, willing a tension headache away before it started properly. Behind him, Jo looked sympathetic.

Harry understood and played along, “Charmed, I'm sure.”

Hands were shook in the warmly lit shop as Harry continued to discretely case his surroundings. Henry sent Abraham off to make tea and offered to show Harry to the bathroom upstairs. Jo and Lucas hovered in the background sharing a companionable, if curious, silence.

Harry followed Henry upstairs and crowded into the small bathroom with the garment bag and shoebox. Harry closed the door and took a hard look at himself in the mirror. He definitely missed his glasses. Not that he needed the corrective lenses—his vision was flawless,  _thank you very much_ —it was just that he was so accustomed to wearing them all the time. After the day he’d had, the nightmarish flight, and the anxiety-dream-filled nap he took in the car, Harry truly looked awful.

There was a quiet knock on the door. He opened it a crack to find Henry holding another small pile of clothing. “Hi. Pants, undershirt, socks. A couple of ties to choose from. I shudder to think what Lucas might have brought with him… Still not even sure his suit will fit you properly.”

Harry opened the door enough for Henry to be able to deposit the clothes on top of the shoebox resting on the toilet lid. “I’ll make do. Cheers.”

“Are you alright, Harry? You look a little worse for wear,” Henry’s voice was heavy with concern.

“I’m—I”ll—I _will_ , I will be fine,” Harry shook his head to clear away the encroaching bad thoughts.

“I’m sure a quick shower will be just the ticket. Thank you again, Henry. I mean it. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see a friendly face and to be in your home rather than that truly horrific church…”

“Church? What church?” Henry arched an eyebrow, equal parts worried and curious.

“I’ll explain everything. Just. Just give me five or ten minutes, yeah?”

Henry nodded and sidled back out into the hallway, closing the bathroom door behind him.

  


* * *

  


Harry emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and wearing a surprisingly well-fitting black suit, one of Henry’s elegant-if-old-fashioned ties, and a particularly garish pair of slightly oversized brogues.

He followed the sound of voices to the kitchen and cleared his throat to announce his presence. Everyone fell conspicuously silent. Lucas and Jo were sitting at the table warming their hands around steaming mugs of tea while Abraham stood leaning against the counter. Henry positively leapt up from his seat at the table to greet his old friend with a grin plastered on his face.

“Harry! You look wonderful. Please have a seat,” Henry motioned to the remaining seat at the table. “Tea?”

“Please. Thanks,” Henry said as he sat down.

“Henry’s right, you clean up nice, man,” Jo chimed in.

“Quite, and if I may say, _nice suit,_ Lucas. I’m surprised. I usually only see him in scrubs or a t-shirt and jeans,” Henry explained for Harry’s benefit as he poured his cup of tea, adding milk and one sugar without having to ask.

Harry smiled and took the teacup offered to him. “Thank you. And thank _you_ , Lucas, for lending me your suit. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Oh, no sweat, dude. It’s my all-purpose suit. By that I also mean it’s my only suit. My Dad always said, ‘If you’re only gonna buy one suit, make sure it’s nice and black.’ That way you can wear it to weddings and funerals and job interviews,” Lucas explained. “I wore it in a couple of my student films, too! I was a zombie businessman. We were trying to tell a story about the horrors of capitalism via the horror genre.”

“Lucas,” Jo warned, subtly shaking her head.

“Yeah?” he looked to Jo and saw her expression. “Right,” said Lucas. He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed at his signature oversharing.

“Anyway… Harry is here. And there’s a situation. It’s very serious and he’s asked for my help. Harry, anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of them,” Henry gestured to his companions.

He took a deep breath. “Thank you, Henry. Where to begin? I’m afraid it's rather a long story...”

  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

All told, Harry's story took no more than an hour, though it felt much longer.

His audience remained almost totally silent making him feel like either a particularly boring lecturer or, perhaps, a very good storyteller. He took advantage of their stunned silence to finally get down to business.

“ Now,” Harry continued, carefully gauging the reactions of the room, “Does anyone happen to  _ have _ one of Valentine's free network enabled smart phones?”

Abe shook his head and said, “I been meaning to, but I haven't gotten around to the store yet.”

“ Nor I,” chimed in Henry, surprising no one.

Lucas, who appeared to take the news of the impending apocalypse worst of all, leapt up from his seat. With a look of terror plastered on his face, he clumsily shoved his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and produced his phone. He held it pinched between his thumb and forefinger as though it were radioactive. Without warning, Lucas threw the offending piece of tech to the ground and vigorously stomped on it until fine shards of glass and circuitry spilled from its case.

Henry, still seated at the table, held his head in his hands and groaned softly.

Harry had a more measured response. "That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I was asking, Lucas, but thank you. Well smashed." 

Lucas returned to his seat, embarrassed once more.

Harry turned his focus to Jo. She appeared to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with Abe, who was turning red. They were both trying very hard not to laugh. “Detective?”

Without saying a word, Jo produced her personal phone from her jacket pocket and slid it across the table to Henry’s “old friend” who was also, allegedly, a secret agent.  _ A secret agent who just admitted he had recently lost control of his faculties and killed dozens of people in that church that'd been all over the news. _ Any hint of a smile quickly faded from her features.

Harry mirrored her serious demeanor as he inspected her Valentine Corporation phone.

A few anxious, silent minutes passed in the Morgans’ kitchen. Harry’s inspection of the phone was not...immediately fruitful.

Abe recovered from his soundless giggle fit and cleared his throat to voice the unspoken question on everyone's mind: "No offense, Mr. Hart, but exactly how much are you gonna be able to learn about this signal here? I'd like to know how you plan to save the world from inside an antiques shop.”

“ That’s a fair question, Abraham,” said Harry without looking up from the phone. “I am, as I said, a field agent rather than an analyst. But if I’m very very lucky, I may just be able to reverse this one phone’s signal. Shield the five of us from the effects…”

Lucas’s eyes widened. “Woah, woah,  _ woah! _ Did we learn  _ nothing _ from the movie  _ Serenity _ ?”

"Come now, Lucas. Don't be foolish,” Henry reprimanded.

Jo held up a hand, "I’m probably gonna regret this, but what do you mean, Lucas?"

He burst into an explanation of a film where anti-rage/pro-calmness signals caused an entire planet of people to become so complacent that they all just sat down and died (while a small percentage had an adverse reaction and transformed into completely irrational, hyper-violent rage monsters who flew around in spaceships attacking innocent smugglers).

His assembled audience listened to this with various degrees of skepticism and bemusement. With an arched eyebrow, Henry says, "That. Sounds absurd."

This dismissal made Lucas’s face fall. “Yeah, I know. But I just thought it was relevant…”

"It has, however, reminded me of an old SHIELD file,” Henry continued. “Something about a theatre full of people who all attacked and killed each other for no apparent reason..."

"Oh my God, Doc! You were a SHIELD agent, too? How are you such a secret badass?!" Lucas demanded.

“ Nonsense, Lucas,” Henry rebuffed. “I was never a SHIELD agent. I was  _ barely _ a Kingsman. No, no. I just pass the time by reading declassified files on occasion. You can see why that one stuck out. It’s fascinating what a medical examiner can learn from homicides of the past.”

“ _ Riiiiight, _ ”  said Lucas, elaborate conspiracy theories to the contrary almost  _ visibly  _ forming in his mind.

Abe and Jo merely shrugged, apparently not having strong opinions one way or the other about Henry being a secret agent twice over. Internally, however, they were both  _ reeling  _ at this second revelation about the man who purported to not have secrets from either of them. They both knew about Henry’s immortality and were beginning to suspect the same of Harry. They could tell his version of the day’s events was abridged for Lucas’s benefit. One only had to hope that Henry, at least, had the whole picture

_ CRUNCH. _

All the heads in the room immediately snapped around to face Harry Hart. His face was professional and expressionless, but he had apparently just broken Jo's phone in one hand.

“ Terribly sorry. I wasn’t making much progress. And if I can’t contact anyone at Kingsman to help me hack into it, we’re all much safer without these around.” Harry leaned down to scoop the remnant’s of Lucas’s phone off the floor. He plucked the sim card from the detritus and got up to throw the rest in the trash.

“Now,” Harry began, “This hasn’t been the best day for me. I’m in the midst of a communications blackout with a looming apocalypse and my entire agency already thinks I’m dead. Even if I can get more people to believe me, I can’t go to the media without triggering mass panic. My last ditch plan here is...,” Harry sighed. “A lockdown.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


At Harry's behest they boarded themselves up in the basement with some supplies and Abe's laptop. They took Henry and Abe’s small collection of weapons as well as Jo’s service weapon (after much cajoling) and secured everything on the roof, far from reach.

Harry was just so frustrated at not being able to save the world. He was not accustomed to feeling helpless. He longed to be at the front lines (maybe even with Eggsy by his side), but he hadn’t the slightest idea of Valentine’s location. So the plan was to stay put, stay out of the danger zone, and keep trying to contact Merlin.

No one was particularly pleased at the prospect of staying in Henry’s dungeon all night. Harry said the bad guys’ timeline didn’t start until tomorrow, but there were parts of the world where it already  _ was  _ tomorrow, so there’s really no telling. The horror show could start at any moment.

But it didn’t. The hours dragged by. Lucas, in spite of his anxiety, was the first one to fall asleep. He was snoring very softly while draped awkwardly over a chaise longue that was not intended for someone his height.

Harry stared into the glow of the laptop resting on Henry’s workbench while dispassionately munching on a granola bar. Everyone else was plopped down on various bits of less expensive furniture they had dragged downstairs from the shop. 

No progress was being made on any front, and the streets outside were dead quiet. Henry sidled over to the work bench to sit with Harry.

“ So,” Henry began. “What do you normally do when this happens?”

“ What ever do you mean, man?” Harry glanced up from the screen where he was monitoring dozens of internet tabs: traffic cameras from a handful of major cities around the world (and one with a decent view of Abe’s Antiques), news coverage of the church massacre, some Dark Web pages where he’d been scanning for chatter about Kingman or Richmond Valentine, Eggsy and Roxy’s locked twitter accounts, and NYPD’s secure incident feed (courtesy of Jo).

“ Well, I've not seen you in sixty years.” Henry barely spoke above a whisper, not wanting to wake Lucas. “I know I'm not your first choice of backup. What do you usually do when you die on a mission and are stranded without your gear?”

“ Henry, believe it or not, I'm a very good secret agent and am  _ very  _ rarely killed in action,” Harry muttered distractedly.

He heard a derisive snort coming from the corner where Jo and Abe were seated and a mumble that sounded an awful lot like “ _ That's refreshing. _ ”

The two Brits turned their heads in unison with matching raised eyebrows.

“ I didn't say anything,” said Abe a little too quickly. He jabbed a thumb in Jo’s direction and mouthed “she did it” for good measure.

He wasn’t discreet enough and Jo saw his hand gesture. “Oh, it’s like that, huh, Abe?” She gently punched him in the shoulder while stifling a giggle.

“ _ Dad _ , she hit me!” Abe mock-whined with a grin on his face. “Are you just gonna let her abuse your child?”

Henry rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Harry, while Harry turned his attention back to the computer screen and their conversation.

“ At least the young people are in good spirits, eh? At any rate, my work also doesn't bring me to the colonies as often as one might think. And did I neglect mention the whole ‘agency being compromised’ bit? Any other day I would just call in for an extraction,” said Harry.

“ Yes, yes, of course,” said Henry. “We will get that sorted out. Or when this apocalypse nonsense blows over, I’ll set you up with my fake passport girl. She’s very good. You can hop a flight home, waltz right into the tailor shop, and work this out in person.”

“ Maybe. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m trying to leave digital breadcrumbs to get Merlin to notice me and  _ believe _ that it’s me,” Harry groaned in frustration then closed the laptop partway. Deciding to give in to the distraction, he told Henry his one funny death story from recent memory. It paled in comparison to most of Henry’s epic deaths (essentially, he died once on a mission and then showed up naked at the extraction point anyway and simply said “Don't ask.”

He had an intimidating enough reputation that his handler and support staff actually left it alone. No one even questioned the gaps in his mission report.

Henry was impressed that Harry had managed to keep his immortality a secret from everyone in his life. After over a century of trying to remain unattached and anonymous, Henry himself could no longer help but get close to people. He’d  _ missed  _ people. Being immortal was extraordinarily lonely business. With the exception of Harry, and, God help him,  _ Adam _ , everyone Henry ever knew would die long before he’d ever be ready to say goodbye. So he’d make new friends, even have new loves and new families, but Henry would forever carry those losses with him… Henry either envied or pitied Harry’s ability to live the solitary life of a spy. He just wasn’t sure which.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lucas woke with a start not long after sunrise. He rubbed the sleep from his eye with a balled fist and said, “What was that noise? What’s goin’ on?”

“ I think it’s starting. It looks like two cars crashed down the block. A head-on collision. Could be nothing, but if the drivers get out and try to kill each other…” Harry trailed off, staring intently at the video feed with Henry and Jo crowded around him to see, too.

“ Honestly, even if they do get into it, it could still be nothing. Road rage is big in this town,” Jo offered hopefully.

But Jo was wrong. The words were barely out of her mouth when a pedestrian appeared in the frame, running frantically up to one of the cars. The woman pulled the driver from the car and started punching him ferociously. The other driver limped towards them and joined the fray, cracking a glass Snapple bottle over one of their heads.

Harry briefly switched tabs to see what the situation looked like in other parts of the world. It was all the same, if not worse. He switched back to the camera situated near the shop so Jo and Henry could watch the carnage, then he excused himself.

More pedestrians had appeared to join in the brawl. It was dredging up all those memories Harry had been trying to hard to repress for the last however-many hours. 

Lucas went over to take a peek at the laptop screen. “This is so sick,” Lucas said. “Oh my God, they really are trying to kill each other with their bare hands. I kinda hoped you were exaggerating, Harry.”

Jo was the next person to stop watching. “I can’t do this,” she said as she walked towards the side of the room where Harry had retreated and where Abe was pretending to read a book. “I can’t just sit here and watch and not do anything.”

Harry was not so wrapped up in his own trauma that he missed her struggling with the compulsion to go outside and help. He warned her again, “There  _ is _ no helping those people. If you go out there, you'll just become one of them. And you’ll be a damn sight more deadly than most of them. You forget who you are, but you remember vividly all the ways you ever learned how to hurt somebody. I can tell you know how to handle yourself, Detective. You’d do almost as much harm as I did.” Harry placed a gentle hand on Jo’s shoulder to comfort her. He turned to Henry, “I just hope none of your neighbors with taller buildings notice the small cache of weapons we stored on the roof. Even in what appears to be a blind rage, these affected people will recognize the benefit of being armed.”

“ Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem,” said Henry  When we brought up the last batch of knives, I had Lucas help me cover everything with a tarpaulin. Unless they were  _ actively  _ watching us last night, no one should know about those weapons.”

“ Good show, Bedivere. I told you that you were always a quick thinker,” said Harry.

Henry smiled at the compliment and the use of his old moniker.

“ Seriously?” asked Lucas as he stared Henry down. “You’re just gonna take credit for my idea?”

Henry shrugged innocently.

Abe chuckled mildly in the corner. He was still holding a book and listening intently for signs of anyone breaking into his beloved shop.

“ And seriously? Did everyone just stop? Harry, come take a look at this!” Lucas called him over to the computer. It showed a bunch of bloodied people standing around looking out of breath and deeply confused.

Harry switched to the other feeds to see if it was isolated to their area. “It does  _ appear  _ to have stopped… Someone somewhere must be fighting back against the signal.”

Jo subtly started moving towards the stairs, but Henry noticed and grabbed her hand to stop her. “Jo, I wouldn’t. Don’t go out there just yet. Just because this thing stopped doesn’t mean it’s over. Let’s wait a little while and make sure.” His thumb rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand in an attempt to soothe her.

Harry’s head perked up at the talk of going outside. “I agree with Henry. We don’t know anything for sure—”

_ CRASH. _

The sound of shattering glass was uncomfortably close. Lucas was still watching the screen like a hawk. “Oh, shit! That guy threw a brick at that guy but he missed and it went through your front window,” he explained. “Sorry, Abe. Looks like everybody’s back at it.”

Jo let out a frustrated groan and Henry enveloped her in a hug, which she willingly accepted.

Abe  _ was _ a little upset about the window. He also finally sidled over to the proper side of the laptop screen so he could take a glimpse. “Oh, no,” said Abe.

“ I know, right? This is so terrible,” agreed Lucas.

“ No, not  _ this _ ,” Abe said, gesturing to the whole computer screen, “ _ Them! _ ”  He pointed at a man who was running at high speed apparently intent on tackling another man caught at the fringe of a brawl directly in front of the shop door. 

_ CRASH. _

There was an even louder sound of glass breaking and wood splintering followed by the thud of two bodies directly above them.

“ That’s not good. That is  _ very _ not good,” said Harry. “If those gentlemen still have their phones on their persons, then that means the rage signal is that much closer to  _ us _ .”

“ And you don’t know the range on those things, right?” Lucas asked.

“ No, for the last time. I have no idea how to stop it.” Everyone pretended they didn’t hear Harry’s voice crack just then. “Just–we need to stay as far from their signals as we can. Everybody get down. Against that wall.” He gestured to the wall farthest from the stairs, and farthest from the sound of the scuffle continuing above their heads.

Everyone started moving, but Henry quickly pulled Harry aside to ask him, “Should we, maybe, take ‘the shortcut’ out of here for their safety? Two fewer able-bodied men for them to fight off if the worst happens?”

Harry answered in a hushed tone, “I know it seems very tempting to go for a swim, but there’s no time for that kind of thinking. We don’t even have efficient means to kill ourselves down here.”

Henry looked like he was going to argue that point.

“ Don’t. Whatever you were just going to suggest, we’re safer if I don’t know. Go comfort your people. We’re going to ride this out,” Harry stated firmly.

Henry nodded. He sat himself down against the wall in between Lucas and Jo. He slung an arm around each of them, holding them close. Abe sat on the other side of Jo holding her hand.

Harry sat in the far corner hoping that the signal wouldn’t penetrate into the basement. He prayed that Merlin and Eggsy would make it all stop again.

  
  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

When it seemed to have finally ended for real, Harry finally found a way into the Kingsman network and was able to get in touch with a _thoroughly_ confused Merlin. It took a bit of doing to assure him that Harry was _in fact_ Harry and he wasn’t dead (anymore).

Merlin was able to confirm that Kingsman had been compromised by Arthur himself, working with untold co-conspirators. Eggsy was the one to figure this out and find a way to stop Valentine. Eggsy, with some help from Merlin and Roxy, had just saved the world.

As soon as they were given the go-ahead, Henry and Lucas rushed out to tend to the wounded and Jo starting making calls from the shop's landline, wanting to check on her fellow officers, but preparing herself for the worst.

Abe puttered around the shop, trying to clean and put things back where they were. Harry made  a half-hearted show of helping, while still carrying Abe’s laptop around with one hand and chatting with Merlin about extraction plans.

After a short while, Jo hung up the phone and went outside to speak with Henry. “Hey, you,” she greeted. “I called in to the switchboard a few times and someone actually answered, thank God. I was able to find out that Hanson is completely fine. It looks like people out in suburbia weren’t hit that hard as long as no one in their house had a Valentine phone. He’s on his way to the station now. Lt. Reece is pretty okay, too. She did get into a fight with her neighbors, but she’s only got a few cuts and bruises…”  
“That’s excellent, Jo,” Henry said while bandaging up a young woman on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, it coulda been a lot worse. I heard the station looks like a mess. Bullet holes everywhere. But it was so early that not a lot of people were in yet. It was mostly beat cops who just kept shooting _at_ one another, occasionally getting someone in the leg or the vest. Most of them should make it. Can you imagine if we were all at work when this happened?” Jo sighed. “We were lucky.”

“I agree,” Henry lowered his voice, intending his next words for Jo’s ears only. “And I know it still bothers you, but if we had tried to warn people, Valentine could have gotten wind and he’d have set things in motion much sooner. Harry’s friends might not have been able to stop it. We did the right thing here.”

“I know, Henry. I get it. If my car still starts, I’m gonna try to drive it into work. You comin’?” Jo asked, waving her keys at her less-than-pristine looking car.

He hesitated. “I know there’s going to be work to be done, it’s inevitable. But I'm fairly certain there won't be many _mysterious_ deaths just now. And any perpetrators will likely not be prosecuted, as no one was in their right mind out here. I think… I think I'd like to help the living for the time being. I'll join you later.” Henry offered a reassuring smile and a good-bye kiss.

She smiled back and turned to go to her car, but got side-tracked by a pedestrian who spotted her badge and had frantic questions.

Through the shattered shop window, Harry took a mental note of the kiss. He'd been wondering all night whether Henry was dating her or Lucas…

Speak of the devil, Lucas just then materialised by Henry's side, huffing and puffing a bit as he'd been a ways down the block helping a young man into a makeshift sling. “Is Jo leaving?”

“Yes, she’s headed to the station,” Henry answered.

“And you're sticking around?”

“Yes, Lucas. There's plenty of doctoring for me to do right here,” he said gesturing to the bloodied and bruised people all around them.

“Good for you, Doc,” Lucas said with a pat on the shoulder. “But that means the morgue’ll be a little understaffed. I'll catch a ride in with Jo. My first aid is a little rusty anyway,” he smiled sheepishly and intertwined his fingers with Henry's. “I'll see you later?”

“Of course, Lucas.” Henry smiled warmly. “I won't be too long.” Henry stood on his tiptoes to give Lucas a brief kiss on the lips. He spoke quietly into Lucas’s ear, “I thought you were very brave today. I'm so glad you were here with us and not God-knows-where getting attacked by mad people.” Lucas bent down to press their lips together once more.

With a small smile and slight blush on his face Lucas turned to catch up with the detective who still hadn't gotten far. “Jo! Can I ride with you?” As he caught up with her, he reached out for her hand. She took his like it was second nature.

Harry stepped out of the shop and sidled up to Henry, who was by then in-between patients. “So…,” he began. “She knows you’re immortal, he doesn’t, and neither of them are fully aware of your history with various intelligence agencies. And you’re all dating each other? That’s not complicated at all, is it?”

“I suppose it is a bit complicated, but they make me happy, Galahad.” Henry grabbed his medical bag and moved slightly farther down the street to find someone new to assist. “What about you?”

Harry casually trailed behind him. “Hmm? What about me?”

“You’ve not been able to wipe that smirk off your face since you hung up with Merlin. Is it him, then?” Henry prodded.

“Merlin and me? No, no, of course not,” Harry paused. “Well, once. I think? A few—maybe ten—New Years’ ago, and neither of us can remember it. No, wait, I know: he remembers and I’m not allowed. And we’re not supposed to discuss it. He’s rather an uptight chap. A good friend, though.”

“Then who has you making such a stupid face, Harry?”

“My protégé. Eggsy,” Harry sighed. “That young man… He just saved the world.” Harry positively beamed with pride and affection.

“You know, I was only joking on the phone yesterday, but now it all makes sense. He sounds very special,” Henry halted his search for a new patient and gave Harry his full attention.

“He thinks I’m _dead_ ,” Harry admitted, distressed. “Merlin said he was watching the feed from my glasses. Saw the whole thing.”

“You need to go to him. As soon as possible. Do you remember how torn up I was the first time I thought you died?” Henry asked.

Harry hesitated for a moment.

“ _Of course you bloody don’t!_ ” Henry declared in a barely restrained shout. “Because your body disappeared and I didn’t see you again for nearly a year! I’d gotten over you by then, thank God. And Abigail was the best thing that ever happened to me. But, still. Don’t repeat those mistakes. Tell him before he moves on and forgets about you. Take your shot at happiness. _Especially_ if he’s young. That just means that many more good years before he passes you by in age. Trust me. That’s the hardest part. When Abigail went missing and the police wouldn’t believe she was my wife…that I could be married to a woman so much ‘older’ than myself… It was _awful_. In a perfect world, you’d have, what? Well over forty years before anything like that happens to you? Go. To. Him. Harry.”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Harry agreed. “But then you have to tell Lucas.”

“Fine. Deal. I’ll tell him tonight. Or, if not tonight, soon,” Henry promised.

“I’ll hold you to that, Morgan. I know where you live.”

  


* * *

  


Several hours later, and after one of the most harrowing taxi rides to the airport _ever_ , Harry Hart was in the air over the Atlantic daydreaming of being reunited with Eggsy...  


 


End file.
